


Solar Eclipse

by themisguidedgh0st



Category: Carmilla (Web Series), Carmilla - All Media Types
Genre: BLS?, Broody Carmilla, Complete, F/F, Fluffy Ending, Laura Babbling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 18:44:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7695277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/themisguidedgh0st/pseuds/themisguidedgh0st
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laura is an employee working for the Bureau of Labor Statistics and she needs to interview Miss Carmilla Karnstein...</p><p>"Miss? Miss? I really need your input for this survey? Miss. The BLS measures the unemployment/employment data every so often. Miss Karnstein? Or is it Mrs. Karnstein? I mean I could call you either one if you prefer but I really do need these answered and --"</p><p>You drawl out "Are you seriously still talking?"</p><p>She stops talking for a second. You take that second to your full advantage by pressing the end call button on your landline.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Solar Eclipse

Carmilla Karnstein:

You sigh to yourself before taking a sip of your freshly made coffee. Black Colombian, tasteful coffee never looked so beautiful against the contrasting white mug.

The taste of the coffee burnt your tongue to perfection, sliding down slowly warming your mouth and throat, soothing your entire being.

Taking out a fresh piece of paper, you will yourself to try again.

_Scribble._

_Slash. Scribble Scribble._

_Pause._

_Scribble._

_Scratch Slash._

_Crumple._

You grumble to yourself "At this point, why even bother? I might as well sit at home and watch a freaking TV show. I'll be evicted soon either way. "

Smacking the now crumpled paper out of the way, you hug your dear Columbian coffee close to you.

"Goddammit, Carmilla, writing a resume should not be so difficult. A child could write this. "

_Children do write this._

You scowl at yourself and your mind, reminding yourself once again that you are indeed pathetic.

You look at the time.

8:03 AM blares out at you in bright red lettering. You sigh. It's far too early in the morning for this. But you don't have a choice.

You got fired for "indecent" behavior with another customer from your previous job, which _totally_ wasn't fair because _she_ came on to you and you tried to push her off.

But politics. And politics meant that the girl that was ferociously trying to kiss you was the boss's daughter. Which meant you got fired. It didn't matter.

You were a cashier. It wasn't rocket science. You got _fired_ as a _cashier_. Where the hell are you going to get a job now?

You slump lower in your chair, sipping once more on your coffee.

Maman was right, you begrudgingly admit. You _are_ a failure.

Who were you kidding? How could you ever come up so easily in life and pay off school debt with a major in Philosophy?

And a minor in Art History?

But anything was better than going back to your old home. Back to Maman. Back to her little mind games and trickery and heartbreaks of wishing you had a family to love you-

No. None of that today. No memories.

8:04 AM reads the clock.

Looking around your tiny, decrepit apartment doesn't give you an encouragement.

The walls are bare and scuffed from previous tenants. The beige-white paint is slowly peeling off.

You don't have many belongings. A bookcase for your books, a small bed, a Chester-drawer filled with your clothes. You have a suit-case filled with the only things you took from your old home.

A family picture of you, your father, William and Matska, or Mattie as you affectionately called her, some old papers, old diary confessions of yours and a child-hood book that you couldn't let go of before leaving to university.

Your eyes lead you to your window. The apartment may be the shabbiest place in the small town in Austin, but the view that your apartment had was unparalleled.

The sky lit up in a myriad of colours, each one blending into the other to create a beautiful, chaotic mess of sky. It seemed to represent your life.

However, at the center of the sky, a sun was emerging.

You love waking up in time to see the sun emerging. It was rare, something like a solar eclipse.

In fact your life was something like a solar eclipse that hadn't finished yet. It was still dark and your dark moon too big.

The powerful ring of your landline telephone cuts off your cynical thinking.

You rush to pick it up, hoping, praying that it was a positive answer from a job interview.

"Hello, Carmilla Karnstein speaking"

"Uhhhh.....Uh..well....uhm....Hi!" You think that despite the clearly inarticulate stuttering, her voice is too cheery for 8:06 in the morning, but if she bears good news, you're willing to stand it.

"Yes?"

"My name is Laura Hollis, with the Bureau of Labor Statistics and I have to ask you a few--"

You didn't even let her finish her sentence. You threw the phone aside, yawning. Sighing  with disappointment, you take your cup to go warm up your now luke-warm coffee.

As you walk you hear someone talking very quickly and it seems as though...

You put the coffee down once more and turn back towards the phone.

Yep. You never hung up on the crazy woman. You just threw the phone aside to your table.

You placed the phone against your ear.

"Miss? Miss? I really need your input for this survey? Miss. The BLS measures the unemployment/employment data every so often. Miss Karnstein? Or is it Mrs. Karnstein? I mean I could call you either one if you prefer but I really do need these answered and --"

You drawl out "Are you _seriously_ still talking?"

She stops talking for a second. You take that second to your full advantage by pressing the end call button on your landline.

You drop the phone on your table again. The silence is eerily noisy in your head.

You walk towards the counter to take a sip of your coffee.

You grimace at the change in the taste of hot to luke-warm.

Outside your window, the sun is shining brightly against fewer colors. They seemed to have blended into two main colors. The sky looks more boring now.

You chance a glance at the clock.

It is now 8:09.

Laura Hollis:

You slam your headset down in frustration.

"Ggrrrr!" You rip apart the image of the man you constructed in your head with your bear hands.

You feel your face getting redder by the second.

Rubbing your face in your hands, you growl to yourself quieter than before.

Looking down at the file on your desk, you sigh twirling in your chair.

Your name is Laura Hollis and you work for the Bureau of Labor Statistics. You have a job as a surveyor of a group people in the United States. You collect unemployment information for the country from these 60,000 people.

The job sounds stupid, even to you. You're no mathematician but you're pretty sure that for a population of 300 million, surveying 60,000 households isn't really going to help.

But you've learned in your college classes that these surveys help measure the economic growth of the country.

And well, _someone_ has to do it.

And you get paid. So you don't complain much. Especially if this pay means that you can fund your way to journalism school.

Staring at the name of the person you were to interview, you sigh again.

Your job isn't as easy as it sounds. People lie, they are rude, they try to get out of the survey through embarrassment. They think you're trying to sell something to them.

Most people aren't even aware that this survey occurs. So of course, they think you're trying to swindle them.

You sigh again, looking around your cubicle to see other people doing the exact same thing. People are talking, sighing drinking their morning coffee.

You stare again at the file in front of you. He was one of those lewd male chauvinist pig types. You keep his file aside, not wishing to deal with that kind of idiocy this early in the morning.

The next file in front of you is "Carmilla Karnstein". Her name sounds nice in your head and you think she sounds European.

Taking a sip of your rapidly cooling cacao out of your custom Dr. Who mug, you plaster a pleasant smile on your face even though you know that you won't see the person over the phone.

You set your mug down, pick up your ugly black office phone and dial Ms. Karnstein's number.

Or is it Mrs. Karnstein?

She looks young.

"Hello, Carmilla Karnstein speaking"

Her voice is indescribably silky and velvety at the same time. She definitely sounds young.

...

Oh right, you have to speak.

About what?

Oh yes, speak about survey! Job! You, Haura Lollis!

Oh, well, Laura Hollis!

Words! English!

You manage to squeak out a 'hi' without collapsing into your chair with embarrassment.

She responds with a reserved "yes" and that _definitely_ does something unmentionable to your insides.

You shake your head and start your pitch to Ms. Karnstein/Mrs. Karnstein about you and your job and the survey.

You hear a light thump, but you think nothing of it as you keep going.

There's not much speaking on her end, which is a bit of a relief because most of the time people just hang up on you and she was at least polite enough to listen and –

"Are you _seriously_ still talking?"

_WHAT?!_

You can't respond because your entire tiny frame is red with rage and _how dare she?!_

You hear a click and then a dial tone.

Wilson Kirsch, your office buddy looks up at the sound of you smashing your phone into its receiver.

"Whoa there, little nerd hottie. What did the phone do to you? The cord didn't try to choke you, did it? Sometimes it does that to me when I'm talking to a survey member and it sounds like I'm choking and- Laura? Where are you going?"

You stormed out of the office, with your coat and bag without answering Kirsch, ready to head home for the day and sleep off your anger.

Reaching the door, you make a promise to yourself that you would have to try again tomorrow because your journalism career depends on this _stupid_ job.

It took you 3 days.

Three.

Whole.

Days.

For you to get Ms/Mrs. Karnstein to agree to meet with you to survey her about her employment life. You didn't have that kind of time. And for her to act to bloody casual and nonchalant with you really pissed the living hell out of you. Maybe she could afford to be so disinterested in life.

But you couldn't and you hated a person with an attitude, silky, sexy voice that made your insides turn into a wet mush or not.

She lived about 25 minutes from where you lived. Oakridge Lane. It was a part of town that you had never been to because there was no reason for you to have ever gone there before. It was a secluded place. In fact, had you still been living with your dad, the over protectiveness in him would have come out and he probably would have sent you with a full bear spray kit to go with you on your journey to another human girl's apartment.

Her apartment building looked like it belonged in the 50s or maybe during the Great Depression. There were three homeless men on the side of the building, sleeping. Filthy cats that were left stalked around and rats skulked around here and there.

This place made your tiny little apartment seem like the safest place on the planet.

Your dad would freak out if he knew.

Avoiding the goose poop and the occasional animal entrails left on the sidewalk, you walk up to the "Oakridge Lane Apartment Building C", where Ms/Mrs. Karnstein lived.

Looking up at the list of names, you found hers quite easily. Where the other names were written in scrawny handwriting, her name was in a beautiful, elegant script.

There was a buzzer next to her name. You press the buzzer once.

"Yeah?"

"Uhm, Hi. It's Laura from the BLS. I called earlier and you said you'd let me--"

"Yeah whatever, I'm buzzing you in. Come up. 2nd Floor. Apartment E."

Normally you would give thanks, but you didn't feel that Karnstein deserved it, considering how much of a jerk she was to you.

3 Whole Days. Wasted on this girl.

Apartment E's door was slightly ajar, but not totally open. You could see the beige-ish white walls. They looked sad and lifeless.

You brought up your knuckles to the door and knocked three times.

"Ms. Karnstein? May I come in?"

A vision in a V-neck white T-shirt and really snug leather pants meets you at the door.

She gives you a slight smile, her lipstick a beautiful contrast against her pale skin. Her eyes bore into yours, rendering you, Laura Hollis, babbler extraordinaire, speechless.

Literally.

You know your mouth is opening and closing but there are no sounds.

The angelic vision before you tilts her head as if she's waiting for you to speak.

Neither of you speak.

Her perfect eyebrows furrow a little and you nearly whimper.

_Holy Shit!_

_You're supposed to be talking!_

_Interview!_

_Questions!_

_Unemployment!_

Shaking your head and clearing your thoughts, you walk into her home.

You immediately realize that she is in fact Miss Karnstein based on the state of her home.

The apartment is fairly bare, minus a few possessions here and there.

You're drawn to the window because the view is absolutely magnificent from her apartment.

"So you're here to ask me some stuff, right? Miss...Hollis, was it?"

The velvety voice reminds you of those red velvet cupcakes that your dad used to make for you whenever you visited from university.

You smile slightly, thinking of your dad and thinking of how those cupcakes used to make you feel calm and safe. For some reason, the velvet voice reminds you of home, safeness, calmness. Tranquil.

"Did you just say cupcake?"

You jump.

_Damn it, Hollis, Get your head in the game_

"Oh, sorry...it's just I was reminded of cupcakes when you...." you trail off, hoping she'll let it go.

"When I what?" she raises her eyebrow.

"Nothing. So I'm here to interview you about your life for the Bureau of Labor Statistics. We generally provide detailed industry data on **employment** **,** **hours** **, and** **earnings** of workers on nonfarm payrolls. Each month the Current Employment Statistics (CES) program surveys approximately 146,000 businesses and government agencies, representing approximately 623,000 individual worksites. The CES monthly employment series are the first economic indicator of current economic trends each month, together with the unemployment rate, and are inputs to many gauges of the U.S. economy including the overall health of the economy (employment), earnings trends and wage-push inflation (average hourly earnings), short-term fluctuations in demand (average weekly hours). This is to help measure and understand the economic growth of our country. So...it shouldn't take very long."

You trail off, looking to the side hoping that she'll say something because you've been speaking for a while.

She takes a sip of whatever is in her white mug before saying "Do you say that little speech to everyone? Because I can't imagine how you'd ever finish interviewing even one person if you talk so much"

You give her your fiercest glare even though you know she probably didn't understand a word of what you just babbled.

She smirks and coos at you "Aw, you look like a small little red velvet cupcake"

You glare harder.

She laughs "Okay. Alright cupcake, let's get this crap over with. Ask away, ma cherie."

Your glare never weakens "My name is Laura Hollis"

She pouts and your will weakens "But cupcake suits you so much better"

You ignore her and remove your list of questions from your briefcase as well as a form for you to fill out while talking to her.

You take a breath and sit on one end of her couch.

She joins you on the couch on the other end, never breaking her stare at you.

 Carmilla Karnstein:

Adorable, fluffy little angry cupcake.

"So, Miss Karnstein. Are you married?"

"Yes I have 3 husbands and 12 children."

"..."

"They live in a pineapple under the sea"

"...Miss Karnstein, that's a serious question."

"Miss Hollis, I live in a tiny studio apartment that's about to fall apart. I don't really have much in here besides a tiny cupboard and a suitcase. So _obviously_ I must be married. To an invisible woman that neither of us can see"

"Fine. Then, no. You aren't married. Next question:"

You kept up your insufferable attitude for a while.

_About 15 minutes later:_

You've been internally grinning this entire interview. You _know_ that you haven't been answering a single question properly. But she keeps going on, the little frown in her eyebrows gets deeper for each question.

_And you find it adorable._

No. You find it fascinating to irritate her and push her buttons.

You're about 20 questions deep and it's a struggle to keep your face as impassive as possible even though you want to let out a giggle every time she has to move on.

_Don't you think that's a bit harsh? She needs to do her job._

You internally frown at your conscience. You've been struggling this whole time without a job. You deserve some rest.

You keep going.

"Miss Karnstein...We're 23 questions in. And for information about your parents, you told me your father was a shoe man who relied on elves to make his shoes and that your mother was a fairy who lives in Never-land. I really do need to know when you were last employed and I need to know whether you are a  discouraged--"

You couldn't help it. You let out a laugh. You let out a laugh so hard, that the little cupcake stopped in shock. Soon there were tears rolling down your face.

You hadn't laughed this much since you were with your dad.

You finally stopped wheezing after several minutes. You expected some backlash from Laura Hollis, but she just sat on your couch and stared at you.

You detected a faint redness on her cheeks.

The redness that gave her face that youthful glow and the mix of the colours made you tilt your head in wonder.

The contrast of her brown irises against the whites of your eyes  - _your favorite coffee_

The colour of her red blush and those natural, soft lips, her eyelashes, her eyes, the start of her hairline, the curvature of her neck, the smooth, lush painted skin all the way down to her button down and the tie – _Where had you seen this mix before?_

_The sky._

_The sky. Laura Hollis was the sky right before the sun shows itself to your side of the world._

What. Has your brain finally taken that dump it needed to?

How can this human cupcake be the sun?

Be your sun?

But your body betrayed your rebellious thoughts and you could feel a faint blush on your cheeks. You realize you're still looking at her. You realize she's still staring at you.

No. This can't happen. You can't do this right now.

"Uhm, I apologize. It's been a while since I've had some fun like that and I don't really talk to anyone much so...if you ask me whatever you need to again, I'll answer those questions normally. I'm sorry for wasting your time, cupcake"

"Laura"

You had to have some fun. You smirk. "Who?"

She glares at you, but it dissipates quickly as she decides to accept your proposition.

_ Laura Hollis: _

This woman was so clearly out of your league that it was laughable. Her laugh was different from the way she normally behaved because when you first walked in her home, she was slightly impassive and clearly wanted you to leave.

But then you heard her laugh.

You wanted to be really mad at her because she already wasted 3 whole days and now she just wasted away half an hour. But her laugh was so innocent and pure and a little husky. Like she hasn't laughed for a long time. Her eyes gleamed with actual joy, her mouth was wide open and the sound that came out was more like soft piano music than it was a human noise.

That laugh. You needed to hear more of that laugh.

"Uhm, I apologize. It's been a while since I've had some fun like that and I don't really talk to anyone much so...." She was speaking to you in that soft, voice, slightly hoarse from laughing.

Why hasn't she had fun?

Why doesn't she have many friends?

What kind of girls does she like?

What kind of person is Carmilla Karnstein?

You realized you missed the rest of her statement except for "...cupcake"

You instinctively say "Laura"

She smirks and your stomach takes a round trip to Laos and returns with a huge case of butterflies.

You nod your assent to her apology and begin to ask her your questions again.

_1 hour later:_

You were absolutely incapacitated by the sheer beauty of this woman yet again. But not her physical beauty. Her inner beauty. Once she let herself go in front of you and talked about herself, her trouble finding a job, her previous job issues, you saw the real Carmilla Karnstein.

Carm had her mother control her every move until she got into College. And Carm didn't even attend an American College in fear that her mother would control her as long as she was in the country. She went to a University in Styria called Silas University.

There, she majored in Philosophy and Art History. She's been traveling from job to job, barely able to keep an apartment after her ex girlfriend kicked her out of her old apartment.

She wasn't a discouraged worker. She was still applying to any job she could think that would take her.

But even an hour later, your form wasn't filled.

She had gone out for a minute because her landlord needed her for a second.

You were still in her apartment.

Your form was empty. When had you stopped writing?

_45 minutes ago (Flashback):_

"Are you employed, Miss Karnstein?"

No answer. She was fiddling with her fingers.

"When was the last time you had an interview? Was it successful?"

You didn't understand her answers. Her mother was Lilita Morgan, CEO of Morgan Industries, the world capital of the financial industry. How could she not get a job? She must be a financial wizard, like her mom.

She looked up at you "I don't have a job"

You stared at her, form forgotten because the look in her eye was something of distraught, pain, confusion, betrayal, all the emotions a 23 year old should not feel yet.

This next question was not any of your business and was not on your form and as a professional BLS employee you should not under any circumstances ask her this but:

"Carm your mother is....So why don't you have one?"

You freeze. You've gone too far. She hasn't screamed at you or boiled you alive with her glare. She hasn't kicked you out.

"Pretty sure that's not a question on your form, cutie"

You stare at her anyway. Her beautiful face, and the slight bite of her lip as if she's making a difficult choice.

"You're right. It's not. But you're not really just another person on the phone to me"

You're not sure why you've said that. Your mouth betrayed your brain for the nth time today. You're ready to bolt in embarrassment when she says

"I haven't told anyone really. I don't have anyone to tell. So if this is just because you're too nosy and not interested then—"

You shake your head but you still stare at her head on.

She closes her eyes and once again you feel like you've been pierced in the heart by her beauty.

"Well then. Buckle Up Creampuff. It's going to be a long night."

And then she talks about herself. Her father. Her love for her father. Her mother. Her controlling, vindictive mother and brother. And her sister Mattie who wasn't really ever there for her when she needed her to be. And then there was Ell. Her ex girlfriend Ell who found out that Carmilla  wasn't rich. Her mother was and Carmilla hated her mother.

So Ell broke up with her. And broke Carm's heart. Shattered it, really.

_(Flashback over:)_

You tapped your pen on the form, filling the most minimum information on the form. The information was so vague that it was almost wrong. You chewed on your pen in careful thought.

Someone should help her out. She needs a bit of a push. She's starting to lose hope.

A large slam jolts you out of your thoughts and you jump.

"Sorry there, cupcake. Didn't mean to startle you. Honestly, the nerve of that idiot. He needed me to make a bat go away. Honestly. What am I? A vampire?"

You smirk. "Is that so far off?"

She sneered at you "Do vampires drink rich black Columbian Coffee every day?"

Her slight smile dropped "Well, until I can afford it I'll be drinking it. Oh well."

You start putting away your form in your briefcase slowly.

You notice her watching your movements.

"Hey Carm?"

"Yeah? More questions, cutie? Haven't you taken up half the day already?"

"My friend LaFontaine is a Science Teacher at Oakridge High School. They said that the school is in need of a History teacher and an Art teacher."

You look up at her. She's staring at you in a way that nearly makes you choke on your next line.

"I'm.. a-..actually a b-board member of the school. And I want to interview you. For the position. If you're interested. If you're not that's totally okay and it's fine if you don't really like the idea much or--"

"I would love to. Please do interview me. When is the next available time?"

You  try to prevent the growing smile on your face "Next Monday at 9:45 AM is fine."

You can see her trying to prevent the smile on her face. And it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen in your life. And you want to see it every day forever.

"But maybe tomorrow I can meet you for coffee and a bagel? At Au Bon Pain? Around 8 am?"

Wait. That was your voice. You said those words. That was your mouth again. Oh God she's going to think you're a freak. She's so way out of your league that why would you think this was even a good idea?

You didn't! You didn't think at all! Your mouth just moved in that direction!

"I'd like that very much, Laura." Your brain stops. Your heart stops. Everything stops. She said your name. She lifts a hand and caresses your face softly. You can feel your face slowly becoming redder than a beet root.

"Wow cupcake, you really do resemble red velvet." Carmilla's laughing again and you relax your chest and breathe again in relief. She doesn't hate you.

Wait.

She said yes.

SHE SAID YES.

The glow on your face must be visible because Carmilla's laughing again, her hand still on your cheek.

The laughs die down and you're both still grinning at each other.

What now?

"So tomorrow then." Carm said, in her soft voice.

"Yep tomorrow, okay bye!" and you literally run for the door and leap out of her apartment.

_Carmilla Karnstein:_

You chuckled to yourself as the little human cupcake ran off out your door. Your heart twitched a little in happiness.

For once through this entire flirting exchange, you never, not even once thought of Ell. Maybe it was okay to have a little crush on her.

You bite your lip as you walk over to your window. The sky is still bright, The colors are still mixing together.

But there's no sun in sight. But maybe that's because the only sun you're interested in is currently walking towards her car, briefcase in tow.

And maybe you're starting to believe that your sun is stronger than your darkness and your solar eclipse will soon end.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!  
> So I'm actually Minoring in Economics.  
> And in my class I learned about the BLS and the payroll survey and all this stuff.  
> And because I'm super super queer, I figured well what if Laura needed to interview Carm?
> 
> So this thing was the result!  
> Enjoy!


End file.
